American Horror Story: Murder House Part 2
by Samanthagrey208
Summary: It is 2045, Michael Hugo, a wealthy and respected surgeon, move into a house he feels drawn to, the house that the Harmons once lived and died in. He and his family must deal with the mysteries and heartbreak within the murder house and fight to stay alive.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Forrest

**2045**

The grass is dead, rotten, due to years of mournful regret. Panels of the gazebo are missing, Michael smirks at the brick walls, now polished and unmarked with spray paint. Michael felt a hand move into his, soft, and fragile. His wife, Amelia, kissed his cheek.

"I haven't seen you this happy about a house in 20 years." Amelia had no previous endeavors to move to the west coast, let alone California. She never became appealed to the upper class. Her assumptions about the west coast were wrong. This house, this beautiful house, was once the cheapest thing on the market. But because her husband renovated and rebuilt this land, the cost was, irritating.

Michael was able to get this house by "flirting" his wife called it. Everyone seems to be enchanted by her husband, but not her, he is a window to Amelia, opening herself to a world, unclouded by prints and smudges.

"Something about this house…just is captivating," gravity seems to pull Michael into the heart of the house.

"Sounds like I might have some competition."

"You better step up your game," he kisses her. They hear scuffs coming from behind them, without even checking they knew it was their son, Forrest.

"Why the long face bud?" Michael didn't like to admit it, but his son was his weakness, he could drop everything, he _did _drop everything to help Forrest. Amelia agreed that a new place may be good for Forrest, who was having trouble in school, not with his grade, with his classmates. Once Amelia brought her idea to Michaels attention, he went out of his way to make it complete. His parents left one of the top hospitals in the world, to live on the other side of the county, all for their child.

"This place is a dinosaur," the technological age that exists now numbs the hardships that teens no longer have to handle. Everything is "smart" in 2045. Everything is easier in 2045.

"You'll survive." Amelia reassures. "This place will be better for us." She looks at her husband. "I'm sure of it."

"Come on, lets go inside," Michael held out his hand, his son walked past him.

"He'll get over it."

Forrest opens the door, the couches, silverware, beds, tables, they're all moved into their designated places. He is comforted by this.

"Try and find your room, upstairs is a maze." Michael had trouble navigating upstairs himself.

**ONE WEEK AGO**

Michael places the last dresser in Forrest's room, he should've painted the room white, the gray is just too grim. Although Forrest is grim already, he doesn't need it staring at him in the face every day. But Forrest won't see it as that, he'll accept the dull tone of his room, and see it as nothing but a color.

The chandelier catches Michael's eye to the point where he doesn't notice the woman standing in front of him.

"Hi I'm Marcy." She holds her hand out.

"Hi? What are you doing in my house?" he shakes it.

"I used to be the realtor before…" she stops "You are very good looking? Do you have a wife?"

"Yes."

"Does she work a lot?"

"We both work a lot. We're surgeons."

"A surgeon?" She purrs. "You must have a lot of money. Why not spend it on a house twice the size of this?"

"This house… it just."

"Pulls you in."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Mr. Hugo I need to tell you something."

"How do you know my name?"

"The world is no longer a just world. Scientists found an ancient man eating fish and brought it to a zoo, it killed 7 people. We have had 4 Negro presidents. Marijuana is now legal. We can now see people on the other side and talk to them. The world is a scary and unsafe place and you will be wise to get out of this house because there are evil forces at work in this house."

"I think you need to leave."

"Leaving is what you should be doing. If you don't want your throat slashed." Marcy starts walking down the stairs.

"I will call the police, if you don't leave my property."

"Fine, call me when your wife drops dead."

"MARCY!" It is Vivien.

"Hello Vivien," Marcy's face becomes pale.

"Who are you?" Michael feels something inside him, boiling.

"You've aged nicely." Vivien lies through her teeth.

"Go to hell, oh wait."

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Vivien disappears, Marcy runs through the front door.

**2045**

Forrest looks around his room, his dad arranged everything to his liking. It is easy having parents that know their child.

Violet and Vivien stand in the doorway, they watch Forrest climb onto his bed and lay there.

"Hes sad." Violet says.

"Hes a lot like you." Vivien isn't worried, shes more content than anything.

"Do you think?"

"I don't know. We won't know for sure."

"Did you hear Michael outside? Hes drawn to this place."

"That's what worries me, and that's what makes me sure."

"We have to talk to Constance."

"Michael's coming." Vivien and Violet move out of the way.

"Do you like your room?" Michael stands at the end of his bed.

"I do. Thanks." Forrest is quiet.

"Why the long face?" Michael can't see his son like this.

"Something about this room, is off."

"What do you mean? I have all your furniture."

"No that. Its… nothing."

"What?"

"Never mind, its nothing."

"Okay, mom and I have to meet the Chief of Surgery at the hospital today."

"Fine." There is a pause, then Michael leaves.

Amelia is in the kitchen inspecting everything. "I love this kitchen."

"I knew you would." Michael smiles "I had it completely redone."

"There is a lot of space actually. Forrest is going to have to get used to the dishwasher."

"We should make him wash the dishes."

"I can do that for you." Moira appeared, with her ghostly eye staring at Amelia. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Moira O'Hara I was hired by the previous owners as a housekeeper."

"I am Michael Hugo and this is my wife, Amelia."

"That was 2011 right? That was a long time ago." Amelia is impressed by her longevity and perseverance.

"We don't need a maid." Michael added.

"You were here 30 years ago." Amelia turns to her husband. "It's been a long time."

"Longer than you think" Moira adds.

"I think you deserve to stay."

"Amy can we talk about this?" he whimpers, putting his arms on her waist and pulling her close.

"You should know better." Amelia warns, he lets go. "Star the car we have to go soon." He does as hes told. "Moira you can stay."

"Thank you Mrs. Hugo,"

"Call me Amelia, please."

"Amelia, I work Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sunday mornings after church."

"Church?"

"Yes church, is there a problem?"

"I haven't met someone that is the least bit religious in 10 years at least."

"Why is that?"

"Well with this new technology movement, everyone started believing in things that we could prove."

"That's just silly. What is believing without a little faith?"

"Science." Amelia laughs. "We got to go meet with some official surgeon at the hospital, can I show you the way out?"

"No need, I know this house like I know my beliefs."

The house is quiet, nothing is moving, well except Forrest, who has his iPod in the stereo. He is moving around the house, walking to the sway of his song. The volume goes down, Forrest turns around a sees a boy, no more than his age that resembles his father.

"Don't be scared, my name's Tate, I live down the road."

"How far down the road?" Forrest feels his heart about to pound out of his chest.

"Just a couple houses down." Tate smiles, then it fades. "You're scared aren't you?"

"I don't know who you are. Now get out."

"Please listen to me."

"I said get out."

"PLEASE!"

"GET OUT!"

Forrest runs around the halls not knowing where he is going, the house is complicated when you don't take time to look around. Forrest turns a corner and there his Tate, he backtracks. There is a door that looks like it leads to the basement, Forrest opens in and sees an albino man standing on the stairs. The albino man hits him on the head with something hard, he collapses. Tate comes running.

"I thought I got rid of you." The albino man gives Tate the cold shoulder. Ben Harmon appears and grabs the albino man, wrestling him and pushing him toward the back door. Ben manages to kick the albino man out of the house. Violet locks the doors. Vivien goes to Tate.

"Is this him?" Vivien asks.

"Yes, this is our grandson."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Misconception

"Forrest."

Forrest feels himself waking up, his head aching from an event he can't recall. The sunlight, blinds and blurs his vision, he sees his dad standing in the doorway, angelic-like.

"Forrest," Michael calls as if Forrest was a puppy. "Get up,"

"I'm up!" Forrest snaps.

"Are you still tired after all that napping in the car?"

"I guess." Forrest must've blacked out, he figured.

"Someone is waiting downstairs to see you." Michael's countenance is smug.

"Who is it?" If Forrest's assumptions were right it would be…

"Some guy named Tate."

"You're back from the hospital already?"

"Forrest, go downstairs and hang out with your friend, it's not all about me."

"But it is all about you, _you _wanted to move into this house, _you _are feeling depressed, _YOU _are trying to fix me by dragging me out to California. But I don't need fixing, I find solitude more enjoyable than being with rich, stuck up assholes that snort coke every weekend."

"You're right." Tate laughs.

"Tate hey, Forrest doesn't seem to be welcoming any company right now." Michael was being childish, they all knew it.

"Even the most desolate of people can be the most enjoyable. Isn't that right Michael?" Tate asks

"Call me Mr. Hugo."

"Hugo was my father's name"

"Small world," Michael leaves the specter and his son.

"Your dad seems nice."

"What do you want?" Forrest is worried. "You are really creeping me out dude. I don't know you, you broke into my house. You're lucky I'm not calling the police."

"Then why don't you?"

"I can't take anything you say seriously." Forrest ignores Tate's question. "You probably don't live anywhere near here. I bet you're one of those fame hungry serial killers that wants to get their 60 Minutes special."

"You're right." Tate starts. "I've come to kill you and your family." Tate's stare is locked on Forrest, chilling Forrest's spine.

"That's not funny."

Tate walks over to Forrest and clenches his arm. Forrest struggles beneath Tate's grip. "And neither is this." Tate rolls up Forrest's sleeve, revealing a slash tracing across his wrist. Forrest leers. " Life is too short for so much sorrow."

Michael skulks downstairs and sees Amelia, who is inspecting the rest of the kitchen.

"Babe." Amelia pops her head up. "What are you doing?"

"Mike, you won't believe how old this house is. Not only does this place have an old fashioned dish washer, it has a gas stove. I haven't seen one of those in years!" Amelia recalls what used to be so modern and efficient. "Look at these pictures I found."

Amelia pulls out old polaroid-esque photos of a blonde woman, her husband, and their child. Other photos entail the house from the 1920's.

"Aren't these great? This must be the original owners. God this house is old."

"Speaking of old, even with the renovations, this house has crappy wiring. _You're_ gonna have to cut down on some of _your_ luxuries."

"Alright, I'll make do, for Forrest, I think he likes this house."

"What makes you think that?" Michael questions his wife's opinion.

"Hes always liked old things. He may be stubborn and inconsiderate right now, but he'll appreciate it. Eventually."

"He is stubborn, a lot like _you_." Michael's frustration washes away. "Do you think he is taking his pill?"

"Now that you say it, I don't think he is. He is a bit underdeveloped than the rest of boys his age. Everyone _is_ different, but still."

"I'll check it out." Michael insists.

The second floor hallways, still as twisty and complex, are an obstacle for Michael's endeavor. This chocolate cupcake that he is carrying will be the bridge where he and his son meet, that is, unless _Forrest_ burns it down again. Michael puts force into his knock, he will not let Forrest _walk _away this time. The room, vacant without people, seemed to be sprouting with presence. Michael ignored the tingle in his neck and went downstairs, calling for Forrest.

The backyard was beautiful, the trees gave an invited shade to the grass, which seemed to be tainted, underneath all that green health. Forrest, who was leaning against a column of the gazebo was joined by his father.

"I got this for you." Michael smiles, as did his son.

"Thanks," Forrest became satisfied, and partial to what his father's intentions were.

"Are you taking your meds?"

"Yes." Lies.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am!"

"Then how come you're not like the other guys at your school?"

"I haven't even been to school yet, how do you know what they are like?"

"You know what I mean. You're not playing sports, you're not happy."

"I am happy, you gave me this cupcake, which makes me very happy."

"Forrest. You're underweight-"

"I am perfectly normal!" Forrest leaves the rest of the cupcake on the plate.

"Not in this day and age!" something is boiling inside Michael.

"In this day and age it isn't normal for teens to have pimples, or be stressed. We're all forced to be drugged up and treated like animals." Forrest feels the hole in his stomach expand. "I want to be treated like an adult, I don't want to be taken to the other side of the country because I wasn't fitting in with the kids in my school. I need to learn how to deal with situations or else I will hit rock bottom. I won't become a surgeon if you don't let me fend for myself. So I'm not taking that pill."

Michael stands there looking at his son, in complete disgust, repulsed by his son's choices and mindset. Without a word he leaves.

"He is a shitty dad," Tate and Vivien watch Forrest nibble at his cupcake.

"It's this house, it's a grievance." Vivien can't help but hold Forrest, if only he knew, if only Michael knew what he was.

"It is rather peculiar that he has shown no sign of his true destiny." Moira appears.

"This house will be the start of it all," Tate begins. "It's going to start with the deaths of his wife, and our grandson."

"We need to get him out of this house." Vivien concludes.

"I know just what to do," Constance appears, the September light shining on her, beatifically.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Platonic Love

"Fatty Patty, fatty Patty." Nurse Gladys stands at the end of Forrest's bed. "Fatty Patty, fatty Patty." He awakens, disoriented. There was a presence, but his whole body was taciturn, reluctant to make any sound or noise. Forrest could swear there was someone malevolent at the end of his bed. Next came a tapping on his door, the bed creaked. Forrest opened the door and peered into the empty hallway. The tapping reemerged behind him. But nothing physical was the source of the noise. "That's what he called me. What do they call you?" Patty appears behind him.

"Lost," Forrest says almost in a trance. "They keep mocking me, because I'm different."

"Why are you so different my nature boy?" Gladys asks.

"Because, in an age of effortless joy I make my life rotten, and full of stupid decisions that end up killing me slowly. Like a noose. I'm hanging there suffering for what seems like forever, but its only for a few short moments."

"I know just what you need, a warm bath." Gladys walks him to the bathroom with the tub already full. Forrest gets in and puts his head under water. The water swirling around his body feels nice, his clothes become abstract in the free forming water. Forrest's nose becomes irritated from the water seeping into his nostrils but he ignores it. He clenches his body as the air runs out of his lungs. He is grabbed by someone, their hands delicate and relaxed. Forrest is released from the brink as he diffuses air into his lungs.

"What are you doing? You're giving up now?" Maria, the other nurse holds Forrest. Patty behind her has a towel. "Don't allow yourself to be beaten down by the cruelties of society. I sure was. Instead of fucking Jim Morrison I stayed abstinent, for Him. Turns out that was a mistake. I should've been more like you, heading down my own path, not someone else's."

Gladys gives Forrest the towel as he heaves his legs over the tub. "I think its time you rest."

Forrest wakes up in his bed, over the blankets. It must've been a dream. He climbs off of the bed and steps onto a towel, drenched and squishy. There is a text message already on his phone, he ignores it. Forrest peers out into the hallway and sees the still old dusty air motionless, no one had been up. Probably. The doorbell rings.

Forrest opens it and there standing is a girl, dressed in a red shirt, black jeans, and a matching hat. Shes cute. "Hey, I'm Violet, I live a couple houses down and I saw the for sale sign was no longer up. So I thought I'd stop by."

"Come in," Forrest makes enough room for Violet to squeeze in.

"I've always wanted to live in this house, it looked so beautiful form the inside."

"Its really creepy, we've turned into the Adams Family." Violet laughs at Forrest's joke.

"Where are your parents?"

"You're really nosey."

"Sorry," Violet needs to be more subtle.

"Its okay, I like it." They both blush. "My parents are at work, they're doctors."

"Really? What kind?"

"I don't know, I don't really care."

"My dad was a psychiatrist,"

"Wow, you're family must've been rich."

"Not really, he wasn't very good." They both laugh. Violet goes to the stereo.

"You know you're the only normal person that I've met so far."

"If you thought that coming to California would help you find normalcy then you were wrong."

"We came to California because of me." Forrest sinks his head.

"What'd you do?" Violets tone shifts.

"I wasn't fitting in. I'm not fitting in. I'm not like everyone else. I don't look like everyone else. People made fun of me for that."

"People are cruel." Violet sympathizes. "But once you know how scared and pathetic they are, you won't have to worry about not fitting in." Violet plays "Rape Me" by Nirvana.

"You like Nirvana?" Forrest's excitement is apparent in his face. "I didn't think anyone knew about Nirvana."

"You don't know unless you ask."

"Do you like Morrissey?"

"Yes!"

"I've never met anyone that I've felt so alike with."

"Come on," Violet smiles and holds her hand out, Forrest grabs her hand and she brings him to the gazebo. "I want to show you something." She rolls up her sleeve revealing scars stretched across her wrist. "I did this after my first day of school. I thought I was going to kill myself. But I'm still here. I'm still here because I had things that kept me going."

"What kept you going?"

"My parents. They were both dead, but I knew I had to give them some sort of clarity."

"But they were dead-"

"Dead doesn't mean gone." There is a silence.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Coke."

"Okay." Forrest goes to the kitchen to get a coke. Tate is sitting drinking a coke.

"Jesus. You need to stop doing this." Forrest becomes stern.

"Doing what?" As if Tate doesn't know.

"Coming into the house, just hanging out, I find you creepy by the way."

"I let him in." Moira appears "I find his manners to be affectionate."

"Thanks Moira but next time don't let him in." Forrest glares at Tate.

"Duly noted, I will just need to finish cleaning the office then I will continue outside, is there anything you need?"

"No thanks Moira. And don't worry about the lawn, my dad wants to work on it."

"There's no diminishing a man's pride is there?"

"Unfortunately." Forrest mumbles.

Moira leaves the room. "Don't you just wanna lay her down and caress her soft skin." Tate asks.

"Gross, shes like 80. How sick are you?" Forrest asks, he goes to get a coke from the fridge.

"Sick enough to shoot up a school." Tate says. Forrest turns around and looks at the place where Tate was sitting. There were newspapers on the table. All of the pages described a school shooting at Westfield High. He continues reading to find out Tate Langdon was the one who committed the crime. Forrest finds the date on the newspaper is November, 29, 1994.

"Tate, Tate!" Forrest runs around the house searching.

"He shouldn't have shown you those newspapers." Violet comes in.

"Violet! You have to leave" Forrest pushes her out.

"Wait why, Forrest!" the door is slammed in Violets face. Forrest pulls the knife from a drawer and walks upstairs scouting for Tate.

"His myopia is going to destroy him, someone has to tell him. I won't allow Forrest to be kept in the dark any longer." Moira and Vivien are watching Forrest creep about the house.

"I know I'm just afraid that when we tell him, he will be devastated." Vivien states.

"Theres no ignoring that," Constance appears.

Forrest walks into his room to find Tate lounging on his bed. "So is this the part when you kill me, then scatter my intestines all across town?"

"I'm not going to kill you Forrest," Tate looks at Forrest with his big brown eyes.

"Then what? Cause I'm going to need a little bit more clarification than 'I'm not going to kill you.'"

"I need to tell you something," Tate visage is now serious.

Amelia and Michael come barging in, arguing. "It was my patient, my call!" Amelia says. They prate on about other medical technicalities.

"But you know what I should've never decided to do the surgery because it was your call. It is always your call. Michael is always right." Amelia shouts.

"Today I was always right," Michael explains.

"EVERY day you're right! There isn't a single day when you don't make me feel less of myself."

"The patient. Is going to die. Tomorrow!"

"See this is what I'm talking about!" Amelia retreats to the kitchen, Michael follows. "You don't know if that patient is going to die tomorrow. You don't."

"Give me another example when I am _always_ right."

"Moving here, this house." Amelia has Michael in a corner now. "I never wanted to move out here. Forrest is going to be an outcast where ever he goes. Hes different. Actually let's not pretend that moving here was for Forrest, our son."

"It was!" Michael protests.

"No it wasn't."

"Yes it was!"

"Then tell me. Tell me why we moved out here."

"You are bored. Of me, of our son. We're not good enough for you. We don't fuel your energy supply. We're that mediocre play when everyone leaves during intermission." There is a pause. "Say it."

"I want a divorce!" Michael's blood is boiling.

"God! Say I'm right!" Michael couldn't admit that he was right. His wife was mediocre, he had to bribe the hospital to take Amelia as a surgeon because she is mediocre. Amelia laughs. "I didn't think you would say it. Cause you're a coward, and a-"

Amelia was cut off by the tea pot continuously smashing into her skull. It was right, it was instinct. Michael was being attacked he had to take out the thing that were holding him back and make a world where he had all the power, all the wisdom, all the control.

"Look at what you've done," Constance stands there, horrified by the bloody, emotional mess that her grandson had caused. "Don't you remember me? I took care of you when you were very little."

"Constance?" Michael recalled.

"That's right." Constance goes in for a hug. He holds her tightly. She takes the gun in her right hand and points it at his skull.


End file.
